


Ghosts of War

by mosslover



Series: Love, Wings, and War [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-War setting, Romance, life in New Zealand, memories of war, mild PTSD, world war ii au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:58:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7813420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosslover/pseuds/mosslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the ghosts of war come visiting again. Sometimes new ghosts threaten to appear. But as long as Fili and Kili have each other, they have a good chance of chasing those ghosts away.</p><p>Two post-war visits to the boys from Wings Over The Channel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts of War

**Author's Note:**

> I plain and simple missed these two, so I decided to pay them a visit again in their post-war life on the farm :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Shivers in the night  
Winter 1947_

Wind woke Fili in predawn hours. It rattled the bedroom window as it swept past their house, likely bringing along another round of snow. Little more than a dusting would probably stay behind on the ground, but the chill the weather had snuck into the room through cracks and crevices in the window’s old frame brought the clear message that winter meant business sometimes.

Fili got up to draw the curtains tighter, even if they wouldn’t do much to stop the encroaching frosty temperatures. Outside, it was still quite dark, with only the barest hint of dawn on the horizon. Fili shivered and thought about putting on another layer to stay warm for the rest of his sleep when he turned back to the bed and realized Kili’s side was empty.

His heart clenched.

He reached for the sweater he’d left over the headboard just before getting under the covers last night, and went in search of his lover.

On the way to the stairs, he passed what was officially Kili’s bedroom – it held his clothes, his spare uniforms, memories from the war – but the bed sat there as perfectly made as always. In fact, they never used it – they simply set it up for appearances if anyone ever had a reason to come up to the second level of their farmhouse. When Kili was home, they shared Fili’s bedroom. 

Fili continued down the hall to the stairs, the floorboards creaking under his bare feet every second or third step. He could see faint flickering light at the bottom of the stairs and descended quickly, turning a corner into their living room when he was all the way down.  
He felt the warmth that crept into the hallway before he could see it: Kili must have started a fire in the farmhouse’s central fireplace. He stepped in, the cold retreating behind him as he basked in the pleasant change in temperature, his hands and cold nose especially grateful. Then his eyes fell on the sleeping figure in one of the armchairs: the person responsible for the fire. 

Kili was curled up under two woolen blankets, the armchair pulled up as close to the fire as he dared. It was a feat of some note that he’d managed to fit his entire tall frame and long legs into the chair, but somehow he was wedged in there, not even a toe peeking out or a finger, the only parts of him sticking out were his face and the short curls above his forehead that he usually slicked back when on duty. The fire cast a soft glow across his features: the slim nose, the strong jaw, the twin elegant arches of his eyebrows. He was sleeping.

Fili was relieved to have found him, but it was not a completely positive kind of relief. He was troubled to realize that the cold had hunted Kili down again and took him back to the weeks in 1945 in Germany that he’d spent evading capture after his plane was shot down. Kili had hidden for nearly a month on enemy territory, shivering through the February frosts and March chill, often times his only source of heat being a tiny fire that cost him one of his precious matches and meant an elevated risk of discovery. 

Now Fili’s heart squeezed harder as he saw Kili’s brow furrow in his sleep and a low sound escape from behind his tightly closed lips. Then a visible shudder racked the body hidden under the layers of wool.

The thought of Kili revisiting those miserable days and nights again and facing those memories alone in the dead of the night sent a pang of guilt through Fili. Usually, when Kili suffered one of his shivering fits, it would wake them both and they’d fight it off or ride it out together, either in an impervious embrace, with extra covers, a lamp and a book, or sometimes, if it got really bad, with whiskey and sex. But this time, Fili must have been sleeping soundly enough to snooze through not just the beginning of the shakes, but also through Kili leaving the room.

He sighed, then sprang into action, lips pursed in determination. Quietly, he stepped towards the fireplace and added two more logs to it; he poked at the fire, making sparks flare up and dance for a few seconds before they settled again. The flames burnt brighter momentarily, accepting the newly added fuel and licking at it eagerly. 

Satisfied with the fire, Fili went back up the stairs to his bedroom and collected pillows and the thick bedcovers from their bed. With the bulging bundle in his arms, it was a miracle he didn’t topple headfirst down the stairs, but he managed not to miss any of them and soon he was back in the living room, dropping his cargo next Kili’s armchair. He spread the covers on the floor and laid out the pillows on one end until there was a makeshift bed on the floor. 

He kept glancing at Kili’s sleeping form, but despite the activity around him, the dark-haired pilot slept on. But Fili could tell it was not a restful, relaxed sleep; shivers kept passing through him and once his leg almost slipped out from inside his cocoon; it made Kili twitch and pull it back in, but he didn’t wake up. Instead, he huddled tighter into himself, his breath a quiet snuffling sound next to the crackling of the fire. 

Fili added another log to it, then crouched next to the pilot. 

“Kili,” he whispered, brushing a curl back from his forehead.

Kili’s eyebrows drew closer, then relaxed as Fili ran his fingers over the smooth skin under his hairline. “Wake up, Kili,” he repeated, this time in a louder voice, and Durin jerked awake, his eyes going from shut to wide and alert in a fraction of a second. “What’s wrong?” he blurted out, hoisting himself upright. His carefully constructed cocoon fell apart, blankets tumbling to the ground as he tried to catch them.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Fili replied, managing to catch one of the blankets and piling it back up on Kili’s lap. “But I woke up and you weren’t in bed, and I found you here.”

Something like shame passed through Kili’s face. “I couldn’t sleep, the wind-“ He quivered, then tried to mask it as a shrug as he looked away.

“It’s pretty loud tonight,” Fili said. He took Kili’s hand, stroking the top of it with his thumb as he scanned his softly illuminated face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t up with you. Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because,” Kili shrugged for real this time. “You don’t always get as much sleep as you need yourself. I didn’t want to bother you. But now that you’re awake too, I can go back up to bed with you if you don’t mind.” He gave a yawn and Fili smiled at the endearing sight, then shook his head.

“Of course I don’t mind. But… well. I didn’t think we should waste a perfectly good fire, so I brought the bed down here.”

Kili’s eyebrows shot up, and then his mouth made an even more endearing ‘oh’ when he looked down at the floor and saw the spread out bedcovers. 

Fili’s smile deepened. “I hope that’s not the worst bed you’ve ever had made for you.”

The corner of Kili’s mouth lifted and he gave a drowsy smile in response. “No, not the worst by far,” he said, then looked at Fili with poorly hidden plea in his eyes. “You’ll stay?”

“Of course. Come here.” He drew the taller man down and Kili slid off the armchair onto the cushioned floor. Fili nudged him to lay on his side with his face to the fire, then pulled the blankets over them and stretched out with his chest to Kili. 

“Is this comfortable?” he asked. Kili pressed his back into him, humming his assent under his breath. Kili’s longer frame wasn’t exactly little spoon material considering Fili’s shorter height, but it was good enough, especially when Fili wound an arm around him and Kili found his hand, bringing it up to his rest over his heart. “This is perfect.” Yet despite that proclamation and the warmth now bracketing him from all sides, Kili gave another shiver moments later; one of the convulsions strong enough to make the back of his head collide with Fili’s forehead in an unexpected bump.

“Fuck, sorry,” Kili jittered out. “I hate this. It should stop soon.”

Fili leaned in and kissed the back of his neck. He breathed in the other man’s musky scent which he had grown so familiar with and which had become a part of the landscape of happiness for him. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about me and try to sleep.” He kissed the spot again, then kept his lips there as he felt Kili’s muscles relax under his touch.

“G’night, then. Thanks for this.”

“Anytime.”

Fili closed his eyes, concentrating on the expansions and contractions of Kili’s ribcage against his chest, on the gradually lengthening breaths he took in and released. The next set of shivers wasn’t quite as strong and Kili huffed as if unhappy with his body’s antics, but his breathing went back to regular soon after. Fili held him steady, his mouth continuing to caress the same patch of skin, and the following shivers grew weaker and weaker until they disappeared altogether.

Then Fili let himself doze off, trying not to worry about how often Kili dealt with these episodes. It couldn’t be pleasant to face it on his own in his small room at the barracks at Ohakea base; he wished they didn’t still spend five out of every seven days apart. 

But this was the life they had built, and it was by far preferable to any other alternative or outcome Fili had dared hope for. 

So he tightened his hold just a smidge, grateful that this time, he was here to help chase Kili’s ghosts away.

****

_Hay Season_  
 _Summer 1950_

 

Fili’s ghosts had the habit of ambushing him when he least expected them. Whether they swooped in on the wings of dreams or stormed in by daylight by the way of a randomly uttered word, a scent wafting in, or an unbidden thought, they had the ability to drive air out his lungs as if the past was reaching out with its long arm to punch him in the solar plexus. The blow often left him breathless and hollow again, like during that final year of war when he’d had no inkling whether Kili was alive, when he had thought him most likely dead, when he had lost most of his hope. The rational part of his brain would remind him that the war was long done and they were both on the same island of New Zealand, not continents and oceans apart, yet even despite the reassuring knowledge, the aching pressure tended to linger, making him feel dispirited and anxious for the rest of the day.

As the distance between the war and the present lengthened, the ghosts returned less often – Kili’s as well – until they became sporadic, though still unpleasant, visitors. Perhaps they couldn’t as easily worm their way in as the days of peace added up and normal life on the farm set in; perhaps the good things and the routine that the new life had brought formed a defensive line against them. Or maybe their power would have diminished over time anyway. But when entire months passed and not once did Kili need to battle a shivering fit, when more than a half-year went by without a single dream in which Fili hurtled down in his plane towards a pristine beach, to be swallowed by the flames of an explosion, it was almost like another V-day.

And then one day in 1950, the unsettling feeling was suddenly back. 

He woke up on Tuesday morning with the summer sun just starting to peek into the upstairs bedroom where he lay. For a moment he wasn’t sure what was wrong, why he was panting and covered in cool sweat. Then the dream rushed back in: a shout of horror, air whizzing past his smoking Spitfire, the ground approaching with dead certainty. He had waited too long to bail out... 

The scratch in his throat told him that the desperate shout he could still hear ringing in his ears had broken the boundaries of the dream and had become real. 

Fili swallowed around the rough feeling in his throat. Dismayed, he gathered all his will and practically launched himself out of bed to force the dream away with the day’s labor. He splashed water on his face with strength that verged on anger, then dressed and struggled into his boots. He still wore the RAF-issued boots a lot of the days around the farm; they were cut down from their original tall height to around his ankles but they were still sturdy and served him well. And unlike some other legacies of the war, they felt like a familiar old friend. 

He was already out the door when he realized he had forgone breakfast and his morning tea.

All day, he did his damnedest to ignore the dream, but his mind kept cycling back to it as he checked on their sheep, as he drove the International Harvester they’d bought the year before to the upper pasture. He toiled away to tire out his body. Despite that, sleep came late that night, summer heat stealing in and making it hard for his brain to shut down. 

The next morning, he was up even earlier, the sheet drenched under him. This time, his nightmare had donned its other well-worn cloak: he’d dreamed Kili had been killed and he, Fili, was left behind. Standing on a green hillside on a breezy sun-filled day, it was as peaceful a scene as he could wish for in dream or reality, except that the bright rays of the sun were reflecting off a simple white headstone bearing Kili’s full name and the summed up years of his life. 

_Kilian Andrew Durin  
1917 – 1945_

Fili covered his eyes, willed his heart to ease off on the galloping.

The worst part was, he wasn’t surprised that these dreams were edging in again. He had a decent idea why: worries had started creeping back up on him ever since he and Kili had first heard news about the rising conflict in Korea. And now it had come to the worst: full-fledged war had erupted and the Kiwi government was discussing which forces to send there to help. They’ve already ordered two frigates, the Pukaki and the Tutira, to Korean waters almost immediately after the UN call for military assistance was issued. But any other involvement of army, navy, or air force, was still being decided.

And if Kili had to go –

Fili wasn’t sure he could face the thought of him in danger again, if he could make it through another potential few years of uncertainty and loneliness.

He wished the week would hurry up and get the hell out of the way so he could already hear Kili's Ford’s engine drive up to the house. He wanted – he craved above all to reach out and feel Kili next to him to reassure his frazzled mind. But it was only Wednesday; Kili would be at the base for two more days before arriving to the farm late Friday afternoon. Since there was no direct train connection between the town near their farm and Ohakea or even Palmerston North, Kili drove the Ford back and forth, but it was too much of a commute to do it every day. Besides, gasoline prices were still high, so they saved a lot of money with Kili staying at the base.

Luring sleep back in proved a vain effort, so he got up two frustrated hours later and made breakfast, then puttered around the house. The new tractor wouldn't start. Already upset, Fili forced himself to try and figure out what was wrong with it, but instead of finding the problem, he managed to tear the skin on top of his hand and get greasy up to his elbows. Anger welled up in him and he threw his wrench into the corner of the barn, then went to town to speak to the mechanic at the shop. He pointedly avoided looking at any newspapers he might pass and which might drive his concerns about Korea even higher, if not straight confirm them.

Feeling like a coward for this avoidance strategy made the wrong kind of difference to his mood. At least the mechanic gave him a few hints on what might be the problem, but when Fili got back to the house, he realized that the tips had sounded much simpler in the shop than when he was standing over the engine on his own, so he got nowhere.

Thursday morning he woke up criminally early. He didn’t quite recall a dream, but he felt troubled and agitated nonetheless, so he spent the time left till daybreak by shaming himself for the work that he'd failed to accomplish due to the broken tractor and his own lack of motivation. He tended the sheep and went to town again, skirting any possible sources of news on Korea once more. Joe, the mechanic, sold him a replacement part for the tractor that he thought might be the culprit. Preoccupied with the effort not to catch sight of any newspapers, he forgot to stop for food, and the pantry was looked a little too bare when it was time to make dinner. 

The replacement part didn’t make a whit of a difference. Feeling like a coward and a failure now, Fili sat on the porch watching the sunset, and he missed Kili so much it hurt. Briefly he considered drinking himself into a stupor, but he still had enough self-preservation left to know that it would be a truly desperate way to force his concerns away and he still possessed enough reason to leave the whiskey alone. What little sleep he managed was fitful at best. 

He was stirring honey into his morning tea with a decidedly shaky hand the next morning, but the day dawned bright and clear and enough work was already laying undone around the farm, so he ditched any chance of fixing the tractor and instead took up a scythe to cut the lower meadow. He had hoped to be done with the cutting by today; now he wanted to at least finish the bottom part of it before Kili came home so he had something to show for his week. 

He kept at it for as long as he could, even if the repetitive motions of his task didn’t do anything to soothe his mind. After lunch he was tempted to fold and try to take a nap, but then shame won and he continued, even if his hands ached and were less steady than he would have liked. It was hot and sweat trickled down his back as he worked in his undershirt, reaching for his water canteen every once in a while to cool himself off with a drink. 

The sun was not far past the zenith when the sound of an engine reached Fili’s ears. He whisked around and saw Kili’s truck advancing up the long winding driveway from the main road. He paused, at first in disbelief, then relief, then with growing alarm. Was there a reason Kili was here so early? Did he get news, had he gotten orders for Korea and had to leave immediately? His grip on the scythe grew weak and his heart more frantic than before, his sleepy brain not able to come up with any reasons why Kili should be home at two instead of at six as usual.

Kili parked and stepped out of the vehicle, looking up at the house and then around. He was already in civilian clothes; he must have had time to change at the base. When he spotted Fili standing in the meadow, a small frown crossed his features, and it stayed in place as he walked up towards him in long energetic strides, breeze lifting his hair now and then and a butterfly flitting past his face. 

“What on Earth are you doing up there?” the brunet called when he was within earshot. “I thought we bought a tractor to do all the work?”

Instead of launching into an explanation, all Fili could think was _please don’t let him leave, please don’t let him have orders…_ He tried to dig up some composure, to firm up his grip on the scythe. “You’re back early,” he managed to say.

“Yeah, the graduation was today. Everyone was dismissed after the ceremony, so I changed out of the dressy ensemble and headed home.” Kili almost grinned, but then he noticed for the first time the dark circles under Fili’s eyes, the tired lines in his face, the drawn eyes. He studied the blond’s face, and Fili felt like averting his eyes and at the same time, like blurting out the only thing that was pressing on his mind.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he said, kicking himself for having forgotten what Kili had told him last Sunday. “It must have slipped my mind... The tractor was giving me trouble – it’s not starting, and Joe from the shop keeps telling me what to try but nothing’s working, and I’m about at my wits end. I bet it’s a simple fix, I just can’t seem to put my finger on it? Maybe you can take a look later –“ he realized he was babbling about himself, so he switched direction mid-breath. “But how did the graduation go? Did you manage to write your speech? I bet you impressed the base commander…” He swallowed, flustered, looked down. “I know I’ve been promising to come up for one of the ceremonies, maybe in winter, if you’re – if you’re not-?“

Kili’s frown was back, deeper than before. “If I’m not what?”

“If you’re not in Korea.” It came out quiet, and in truth, Fili didn’t want to say it at all. He looked up at Durin, apprehension strangling his throat and heart as he waited for the verdict.

But Durin just smiled.

“Jesus, no, I’m not going, Fili,” he said. “They just let us know yesterday that no air force units are being sent at all... They're going to raise a volunteer force, didn’t you read the paper?”

“You’re not signing up, are you?” Fili eyed him with one remaining twinge of concern he needed to clear away. 

“Hell no.” Kili stepped closer, carefully avoiding the ominous tool in Fili’s hand to wrap his arms around him. "It'd be one thing if they gave us orders, but I'm not putting my name forward if I don't have to."

“Shit,” Fili breathed. “I was – God.” The scent he’d craved all week was filtering into his nostrils again, winding its way straight to the left side of his chest. “You’re truly not going?” he mumbled, shifting so he could bury his nose in the skin above Kili’s collar.

“No.” Kili pushed him gently away so he could peer at his face. “Have you been losing sleep over this?” he said, not waiting for confirmation. “And now you’re out here in the heat, fiddling with this menace.” He pointed at the sharp blade of the scythe.

Fili shrugged the concern off. He felt lighter now. “Just trying to get something done, they’re saying we’re supposed to have rain next week –“

“Everyone always threatens with rain during hay season.”

“It might be true.”

“I’ll put in for leave the week after next and help you finish. But right now, damn the work. Give me that thing-“ he gestured at the tool in Fili’s grasp – “and go find us a shaded spot up there by the trees.”

Surprised by the turn of the conversation, Fili let Kili take the tool from his hand. “What, why?”

“You’ll see,” Kili said mysteriously, grinning wide as he waved him off up the slope. “Go on, now.”

“Yes, sir.” Fili said and saluted, half amused, half intrigued by whatever Kili had in mind.

Kili gave him a look that held a hint of a smolder and then laughed again, turning to head down the hill with the scythe in his hand.

Fili lingered to watch him go, not ready to let Kili out of his sight just yet. After the anxiety and frustration of this week, he felt himself shift slowly to some sort of balance, as if he was a pendulum that had been unable to find its equilibrium point, worry and bad flashbacks making it swing too wide and out of control. Now that Kili was here, within sight and almost within reach, and the announcement that Fili had dreaded was not coming true, it was much easier to feel centered.

Down by the farmhouse, Kili leaned the scythe against the wall, then glanced back up the hill, sun illuminating his face and bringing out the coppery tones in his curls. Seeing Fili still standing there frozen in his musings, he signaled again for him to go up. Fili flashed a distracted smile back at him and then headed for the fully grown trees at the upper edge of the meadow and the substantial shelter they offered. He sat down, flicking the occasional bug away from his pants and boots as he waited.

Soon Kili waded through the grass all the way to him, a large basket swinging from his hand. 

"There’s not much food in the house,“ the brunet observed.

Fili made a grimace. "I forgot to stop by the grocer's. I can drive to town tomorrow morning.“ He pointed at the basket. "What’s that for?“ 

"I thought we could have a picnic, though with the lack of food it's sort of limited,“ Kili grinned, pleased with his own plan despite the drawbacks.

"Hm, I thought picnics were a pastime for ladies with frilly umbrellas.“

"Why should they have all the fun?“ Kili said. "Plus, there’s other kinds of picnics. For one, I brought the last few beers for us to share. And for two...“

"Yes?“ 

Kili smiled impishly. "You’ll just have to figure it out.“ He produced a blanket from the basket and began to spread it around, which was a difficult task with the grass so high. In the end, they managed to flatten enough of it so that the plaid-patterned fabric was more or less horizontal, thought it still bulged in places. 

They sat down and Fili peeked into the basket, spying bottles of beer, some bread, and an Agatha Christie book they’ve started two weekends ago. They were now about halfway through it. "I see you’ve got that story on your mind, do you?“ Fili said.

"Heavens, you think?“ Kili said. "I’ve been thinking about the book all week. It’s all very fishy. But I think it has to be Lombard who’s doing the killing? The bastard has cold blood...“

"That’s your guess, then?“ Fili tilted his head, amused.

"I think so, none of the others – wait, you didn’t cheat and peek ahead, did you?!“ He looked so sincerely alarmed at the idea of such betrayal, it made Fili’s insides bubble with affection.

He laughed. "Of course I didn't. Have I ever? We can read now if you want.“

Kili shook his head, scooting closer on the blanket. "Maybe later. Right now I need to take care of something.“

His hand came to rest over Fili’s and their fingers interlaced. A pleasant rush went through the blond at the touch. "What?“

"I realized haven’t kissed you yet.“

"Are you failing to carry out your duties, Flying Officer Durin?“

"That’s Wing Commander Durin to you, if you please.“

Fili snorted. "I suppose you outrank me now, but don’t think you can take advantage of that.“

"Wouldn’t dream of it...“ There was a cheeky glint in Kili’s hazel eyes that Fili knew and loved well.

"I wish I could believe you.“ Fili would laugh again, but he found himself rather breathless. "So, are you going to kiss me, since you so humbly pointed out your lapse?“

"Oh yes,“ Kili whispered. His nose brushed the side of the other man’s face, the curve of his cheekbone, then measured the distance from there to Fili’s dimple in the number of shallow inhales it took to get there. "I’m definitely going to kiss you. And I’m not going to stop at that.“

Fili found himself capable only of a little choked off sound, somewhere between an attempted "hmm?“ and a moan at the heat behind Kili’s words. He let it hang in the air between them as Kili looked at him demurely from an inch away, smiling with one corner of his mouth before closing the gap between them.

They kept the kiss light and unhurried at first, reveling in the familiar taste of each other. A bug flew by Fili’s ear but he ignored the buzzing, all of him focusing on the man next to him whose other hand came to rest on his knee. He caressed the short hair on the back of Kili's neck, smooth and soft. They parted, and Kili smiled. "How was that for a start?“

"Decent,“ Fili deadpanned, certain that Kili knew just how fast his pulse was hammering against the walls of his veins. 

"Decent? You know I can’t settle for that. It's not in my nature to settle..." He kissed him again, this time not hiding the fervor underneath it. 

Fili couldn’t help thinking, just before he let himself get carried away by the kiss, that Kili did settle when he came to New Zealand. The RNZAF couldn’t ever give him the same career potential as if he’d stayed in RAF. Fili was quite aware of the sacrifice, and yet Kili never seemed to see it as such – at least he never indicated so; as long as he was flying, he appeared content.

Then long fingers started tugging on Fili's undershirt. 

"Is this alright?“ Kili whispered.

Fili simply nodded. They always took care to avoid all displays of affection outside the safe haven of their house, but the late summer grass obscured them well enough to allow their guard down. Kili pulled the shirt out of Fili’s pants and up over his head, then set to kiss across the expanse of his chest. His hand stroked lower, across his stomach, and didn’t stop there. "This too? I brought stuff... but we don’t have to... not out here...“

"So, it’s this kind of picnic,“ Fili observed in what was meant to be a dry tone, but was in fact rather husky.

"I’ll bring the frilly umbrella next time,“ Kili promised, eyes glinting mischievously.

Fili arched into the touch of his cupped hand, the friction beginning to drive him crazy. "You better. And yes. It’s okay. I need you to do it.“

After that, getting rid of clothes was a fast and furious job, their fingers as practiced on buckles and shoestrings as they once were on the many controls of their Spitfires. Soon they were chest to chest, bare skin in the sultry sunshine and blades of grass poking Fili in the back through the tartan blanket. The prickling seemed but one of the growing list of provoking sensations that assaulted him while Kili stretched over him, a slicked up hand going between their bodies and wrapping around both their erections.

Fili groaned deep in his chest, letting everything wash over him as Kili started a slow pace, kissing him at the same time; long strokes of his tongue inside Fili’s mouth. Fili's breath was coming shorter and shorter and all too soon he felt his nerves, frayed from worry and bad memories and lack of sleep give way and spark up and then he was gasping into Kili’s mouth – "Kili, please, so good, Kili...“

There was auburn fire in Durin’s eyes, and it burnt with nothing but love and encouragement. His hand tightened around them and went faster. Fili dug his fingers into Kili’s ribs, losing his battle against the onslaught. He shouted with his climax and Kili finished ten seconds later, face buried in Fili’s shoulder.

Sated, they dressed and drank the beers and read for a while. It was like back in England again: Fili sitting up, book in hand and Kili’s head in his lap. When the breeze that came up the slope turned cooler and the sun tucked itself further behind the trees, painting the meadow with a softer gold, the alcohol bubbling in their veins rose to the surface and Fili undressed Kili again, rolling him onto his back. Kili’s head landed out of the blanket’s bounds, resting in a so far completely undisturbed patch, and Kili laughed, then moaned when hands and mouth began speaking affection all over his exposed body, light touches and more insistent ones taking turns. It was not hard to guess Fili’s intent: now that most of his fears have dissolved in the tight, heated spaces between them, his desire took over and Kili, with his typical eagerness and ease, let him make love to him. 

In the afternoon sun, Kili looked like he was wearing a brilliant harvest wreath dotted with purple and white wildflowers; like he was creature born out of myth and folklore. But he felt real as well, pulsing with life under Fili’s hands, bringing him closer and deeper until the sounds of their lovemaking rose high and then broke, leaving them panting in quiet satisfaction.

Some minutes later, Kili’s voice found its way through the drowsiness that collected on the edges of Fili’s consciousness. "So, exactly how much sleep did you manage not to get this week?“

"Enough that I could sleep for two days straight right now,“ Fili admitted. "Except that’s the two days you’ll actually be home, so that plan doesn’t strike me as very clever.“

Durin’s hand hadn’t stopped rubbing lightly over the plain of Fili’s back yet, and that wasn’t helping with the staying-awake mission.

"I'll be back next weekend, and then a whole week after it, so get your sleep now," Kili said. He exhaled, the air from his nostrils hitting the hair on top of Fili's head. "As long as we find out what the deal is with Soldier Island before I leave, I’m happy to be your pillow.“

Light filtered through the trees that sheltered them; it shone into Fili’s eyes now and then as the leaves bobbed in the breeze. Another bee whizzed by, not deeming the men interesting enough to pester them. 

"I still have a feeling you’re just with me because I agreed to read to you,“ Fili mumbled fondly.

"You bet I am. Nothing else to it at all.“ Durin sounded dozy himself, a smile behind the words.

"Just as I thought.“ 

Warmth that had nothing to do with the slanting sun rays filled Fili and he drifted off, thinking that if paradise existed – though most people who believed in it maintained that folks like he and Kili wouldn’t gain access to it – he would be very much fine with it being just the two of them, just like this.

**Author's Note:**

> OK so I have to confess I flipped NZ seasons in the second part, 'Hay Season' :D The War in Korea started in the June/July of 1950, which is also when NZ decided to send forces to the conflict. That would mean winter in NZ, but I kind of wanted to keep summer weather due to something Fili thinks about in Wartime Christmas and which I wanted to have come true for him. So please pardon this frivolous liberty I took... And any other possible historical mistakes I might have committed. 
> 
> Also, I had fun with picking which book the two might read at the moment, and I'm sure most of you figured out which book that was ;) I briefly considered they could be reading the Hobbit, but, well. That just seemed too much :D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> I have now created a s series for this AU and I have one more fic planned in it, which involves Kili's point of view during certain events during the war. Stay tuned! :)


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